Something about Nadezdha's raw voice must have seemed genuine to the Hathran because they set to conversing in much softer tones; but the Mulan 'girl' was too overwhelmed to figure out exactly why. 'Her' vision blurred and for a moment she could only hear her own pulse and the screams of ghouls twisting through nightmarish memories as stress and uncertainty bloomed up to consume her. When she could focus again, it was because Yhelbruna was speaking to settle the group down, and her voice was soothing.
She tried to focus on the Eldest. At her side, Nythra still clasped her shoulder as if in a gesture of reassurance.
"Sheilaktar," one of the Hathran asked. "Tell us your intention with this girl: Is her purpose companionship, or is she a student?"
The necromancer looked away from her 'ward' and towards the question. "She is Unproven," the necromancer responded. "She shows affinity for the arcane."
The Hathran nodded and looked to Nadezdha. "Girl: Have you received any training in magic?"
The Thayvian breathed in shakily, realizing acutely the dangerous she was in if she answered suspiciously. "N-none that would help me any," she told them weakly.
"But you have?" the Hathran pressed.
Another Hathran interrupted: "Any Mulan child with arcane taint would have been scooped up by the Acadamy had she been found; they are not given a choice, girl."
But the retort was: "Let her answer!"
Nadezdha wet her lips. "I can read Draconic," she volunteered nervously, hopefully. "A-and Rashemi, and most Thorass dialects-"
"Does thou have a spellbook?" came the next question.
"No!" the girl exclaimed. "I-I have n-nothing! These are my only clothes; and Sen- Sheilaktar made them for me." And now they were stained. She touched her shoulder where mouldy tomato still lingered.
"She is still capable of the arcane! Her head is filled with Thayvian culture, she knows nothing of what it means to respect Rasheman, and her ignorance is intolerable," one woman proclaimed.
This greatly incensed the only slender women present: "Oh indeed, eh? And are we to refuse Theskian orphans, and half-orc girls and all manner of those who call Rasheman home? Am I myself not one of the Spirit Folk; is my mother not Faerie; did she not lead my family over the mountains to this land long after I had left childhood?"
"If our own menfolk be presented with exile or quarantine, how do we let this Thay-child roam freely?" falcon-feathers (her name escaped Nadezdha) retorted.
"Ha! Don't make this a fight it's not. Many an unproven has been sworn in at old age, and been taught the way. There is no time limit.," an older woman in gray with a fierce demon mask spat irritably.
"Like the necromancer herself," The blue-ox woman retorted bitterly, but this time her barb was not accepted by the community, and more than a few of the witches turned disapproving looks to her which suggested she was not only overstepping social bounds but possibly her rank.
The demon-mask woman cackled. "Our Dusk Dragon's not old, and isn't that your problem with her? Her power, youth, and bad manners?"
"I believe," Yhelbruna interjected, "that we all already know the truth of this. Let me speak, that we may conclude this meeting and each attend to matters as is necessary."